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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764113">Laid Bare</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CraftyDemonite/pseuds/CraftyDemonite'>CraftyDemonite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Delivery Caribou, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Caribou, Centaur, Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Lovey Dovey, Mentions of Sex, Nudity, Reindeer, Taur, no graphic descriptions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:54:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CraftyDemonite/pseuds/CraftyDemonite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not as though they haven't been together like this before, raw and real and laid bare.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gala/Blitzen, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Delivery Caribou</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Laid Bare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work contains caribou-taurs. Gala is an albino and also blind.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not as though Blitzen hasn’t seen her bare dozens upon dozens of times by now, but regardless, it never fails to make his hearts jump excitedly whenever Gala’s coats and furs fall away and her slender fingers deftly undo the buttons of her clothes, tugging them off until it’s just… Her. Just her in her entirety.</p>
<p>He marvels at how the sun can’t seem to touch her. Her skin stubbornly remains pale and delicate as a moth’s wing, so sheer that he can make out the blue veins tracing down her arms and through her wrists to fan out across her palms. He wants nothing more than to diligently follow them with kisses up and up until his lips find hers, but not right now. Later he will, but for now, he will take a step back and appreciate her like he appreciates a well-drawn map, neatly marked and labeled and with all the rivers and mountains in just the right places.</p>
<p>His eyes follow the curve of her bosom down to her middle, soft and on the pudgy side from all the breads and sweets she whips up and taste tests mercilessly on a day-to-day basis. Blitzen enjoys the cookies she lovingly packs away in his lunches and the plates of tea cakes and buns she places on the table beside him along with a mug of hot coffee prepared just how he likes it whenever he has his nose buried in navigation charts and finances for hours on end.</p>
<p>Gala shifts a little, the floorboards creaking under her weight as she leans over to place her clothes in the hamper and his breath catches at the sight of her shapely legs and the playful bounce of her tail and Light, Oh Light, does he wish he were a poet rather than a simple delivery caribou. So desperately there needed to be sonnets and ballads and haikus dedicated to her tender hooves and the knobs of her knees and her shoulders – oh, her <em>shoulders!</em> Slight and gentle and sloping and the perfect spot for him to rest a hand or to wrap his arm around and keep her close, because he needs her like he needs food and water and air.</p>
<p>But most of all, if he were a poet, he would write an ode to the blush that colored her fingers, her elbows, her cheeks, the insides of her ears and all the brilliant shades it decorated her skin in. Red and hot when exposed to the snow and biting wind. Pink and soft as she went flush from vigorously working the loom or kneading a hefty hunk of dough until she grew breathless with the effort. Rosy like flowers – like peaches – like the sky at dawn coloring her face whenever he held her, kissed her, whispered – said – shouted how much he loved her. All of her. <em>Only her.</em></p>
<p>Her ear twitches as she straightens up – she can sense him watching her – and that rosy blush blooms and cascades down her neck until it spreads like wildfire across those lovely, <em>lovely </em>shoulders.</p>
<p>“You’re so quiet, dear,” she points out, looking bashful and sweet. He’s just as captivated by her voice, whispery and gentle when it’s just the two of them, as he is with the rest of her and it takes a moment for him to respond.</p>
<p>“Didn’t wanna ruin the moment,” he murmurs. It’s both the truth and a lie. He wanted to stay within this instant of seeing her – <em>really seeing her</em> – forever, but that would also leave him trapped here in the doorway. So close, yet too far away.</p>
<p>“It’s rather chilly today,” she says, goose pimples breaking out across her fair skin. His ears perk up as she reaches a hand in his direction. “Come join me in the bath, won’t you, dear? I fear the water may be too cold without you.”</p>
<p>Another truth and another lie that falls from her lips this time rather than his, but he takes it in the same manner he takes her offered hand; eagerly and without question. He clasps her hand in both of his. Presses his fingers into her palm. Brushes his thumb across hers. Lets her know that he is within arm’s reach should she need him.</p>
<p>She does and it barely takes a little tug from her for him to be pulled closer and her hand reluctantly leaves his grasp to ghost over his chest and arms, finding all the buttons and zippers of his clothing. Between the two of them working in near tandem, Blitzen is also undressed and the chill of the air nips at his skin.</p>
<p>Gala fumbles with his clothes once they’re pulled free from his body and her ears go rosy straight to their tips. As flustered as she is, she doesn’t try to cover herself and bury her face in her hands like she did the first few times they were naked together and she was embarrassed – embarrassed by his endless compliments, embarrassed about what they were about to do together, embarrassed at how slow and clumsy and start-and-stop mating was because they were both terribly inexperienced and their bodies were so new to each other.</p>
<p>She starts a little as he takes the clothes from her arms, but relaxes when he leans over to press a kiss to her temple before dropping the load into the hamper. It’s not the time for mating, not unless Gala wants it to be, and he takes her hand again to guide her the few steps from the bedroom to the washroom.</p>
<p>The air within is warm and steamy and Gala further pinkens from the heat of it. Blitzen goes first, stepping down into the large basin and ignoring the slight sting that radiates from his sometimes overworked joints. The bathwater seems to ruthlessly pinpoint all his aches and pains and Gala doesn’t fair much better when it engulfs her delicate hooves and leaves her breathless.</p>
<p>“Alright, love?” He may have drawn the bath too hot.</p>
<p>“Fine,” she gasps, “Fine, but… Mmm.”</p>
<p>There’s not much room in the tub with the both of them in it, but still Blitzen manages to turn around enough to reach out and touch her elbows. “A bit at a time, love.” Same as courting. Same as mating. Same as trying to grow their little two person family bigger. “No reason ta hurry. Just a bit at a time.”</p>
<p>Each step takes both a bit of time and a bit of discomfort on her part and Blitzen wishes he could drain the bath and start all over for her sake, but neither of them want to waste the hot water, so again he guides and coaxes her lower. Her sides heave as the water embraces her barrel and rump and he can feel her trembling from the effort of kneeling so awkwardly like this until her legs give out and plunge her in up to her waist and belly.</p>
<p>He pulls her against his chest, trying to hush her unsteady breathing and the racing thump-thump of her heart throbbing against his skin. She’s extra sensitive this time of year, when the weather turns brisk and inclement and the leaves, dressed in yellows, oranges, and reds, rush to abscond from the trees. Gala explained it to him once when her jumping at his every touch, even when he hadn’t caught her off-guard, turned him meek and overly cautious with his hugs and kisses and nuzzles. The change in temperature and pressure buzzes in her ears and in her barrel and everything is just a bit much for her right now and he understands because he feels something like that, too. Not a buzzing, but a jittery feeling like electricity crackling about his heart that makes him stomp his hooves and stand tall with his shoulders back and head held high, ready for a challenge, an obstacle, or some seemingly insurmountable task to be placed before him so he can overcome it, or at least try to.</p>
<p>It’s why staying close to each other has been so important right now. Blitzen strives to keep their home quiet and comfortable for her – keep the radio low, no obtrusive scents, announce your presence clearly – and Gala grounds him in turn with gentle squeeze of his hand that keeps him from doing foolish things like bickering with the ever-gossiping matronly cows or taking on one too many deliveries for work. The rapid approach of winter lays both of them bare before each other, raw and sore like an exposed nerve.</p>
<p>So once Gala’s tense muscles have loosened, accepting of the prickly heat of the bath, and she’s settled next to him with her legs splayed in a manner she might have considered undignified under normal circumstances, he makes sure to take his time washing her back and the ticklish spots behind her big ears with plenty of soap that smells of lavender. Gala returns the favor, keen on attempting for the umpteenth time to try and preen and groom his dense, coarse fur into something softer and more voluminous.  They don’t speak as take turns bathing themselves and each other, save for the occasional request of “turn this way, please” or “you missed a spot here. No, a little bit more – yes, right there”, because they don’t need to.</p>
<p>It’s just her and it’s just him with their forelegs tangled and curled together. Nothing to cover up. Nothing to hide. Just them and all the patience and attentiveness and love shared between them in its entirety.</p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p>Fin.</p>
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